


It is either here or now, or it is never

by scotchandwhitelies



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, First Meetings, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scotchandwhitelies/pseuds/scotchandwhitelies
Summary: "Laura spent the last few weeks gushing about her childhood best friend. A Swedish globetrotter who goes by the name of Thor Odinson. She had nothing but good to say about him then; so much so that Clint actually felt a little jealous.He’s a little jealous still as his eyes search for a tall blonde man. Someone acting playful and affectionate the way Laura described. In retrospect, Clint thinks his wife really made her friend sound like a golden retriever. And Clint is usually weary about people who are a hit with everyone. Sounds fishy."It's a classic case of ill luck. Meeting your soulmate the day you get married to someone else.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Clint Barton/Thor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17
Collections: Marvel Fandom Scramble 2020





	It is either here or now, or it is never

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Marvel Fandom Scramble 2020. My random draw for the pairing was Thor and Clint. The prompt was Soulmate AU. I gotta be honest, I wasn't too excited at first because I never wrote anything for either character before. Turns out there's a little fandom for these two and they have a very cute ship name which is Thunderhawk.  
> Many thanks to loonyasalovegood for beta-ing this piece<3 (though the final version is a little different again).  
> 

Time is a precious currency to Clint. He's always on time and hates wasting it. He's notably annoyed with people who can't respect other people's time and always show up late to any function. So when it looks like Laura's friend is not planning to show up to their wedding reception - on top of not even attending the ceremony - Clint feels his temper flare.

 _"He's late_ ”, he says.

His wife throws him a complicit glance over her shoulder.

“I told you : he always has bad timing”, she whispers, mouth twitching just so before she turns back to one of their elderly guests and their retelling of their painstaking adventure in learning how to Skype.

It’s a small wedding reception, just their closest friends and family. A tight knit community gathered in a vineyard, surrounded by rolling hills and tall oak trees.

When he proposed eight months ago, Laura made him promise not to throw a lavish wedding (to her mother’s dismay). Said they were too impersonal for her taste. What she needed and wanted was an intimate ceremony in their local, white-spired church. Even her dress speaks for herself. A delicate thing with draperies married to her lean curves – elegant and effortless.

Clint doesn’t do well with ties and the spring air is hot and humid. Or maybe it’s just him sweating away in his tweed vest, feeling slightly on edge because of his general distaste for social gatherings, coupled with the weight of being the center of attention since early morning. 

He knows Laura’s family is not entirely sold on him. He’s an orphan and frankly poor compared to their generational wealth. On top of that, her family is one of those traditional ones who worship soul bonds and they know for a fact Clint is _not_ Laura’s soulmate. Just thinking about it, the birthmark at the heart of his palm itches. 

Frankly, it’s been bothering him a lot these days, so much that he finally had to buy one of those soothing creams that littered market shelves. They’re usually targeted at single people with the promise of helping them find their soulmates. Clint always rolls his eyes at the commercials.

The last four years he spent on the frontlines in Afghanistan don’t help him conjure the best conversational skills either. Another reason why Laura’s family resents him: he took her away from city life and offered to build her a house here, in Missouri, _in the middle of nowhere_. But even if Clint is far from perfect, he’s working on himself. Been doing so ever since he met her cheerful spirit at a flea market in New York.

He tugs at his bowstring in a frail attempt to feel less like he’s being smothered, looking around the covered area facing the vines.

Laura spent the last few weeks gushing about her childhood best friend. A Swedish globetrotter who goes by the name of Thor Odinson. She had nothing but good to say about him then; so much so that Clint actually felt a little jealous.

He’s a little jealous still as his eyes search for a tall blonde man. Someone acting playful and affectionate the way Laura described. In retrospect, Clint thinks his wife really made her friend sound like a golden retriever. And Clint is usually weary about people who are a hit with everyone. Sounds fishy.

“I need some air,” he says, thumb brushing the smoothness of her shoulder.

“We’re outside,” she says, arching a skeptical brow, but lifting her chin so Clint can press a quick peck to her mouth all the same. She knows he needs a little time to recharge, away from their guests.

“You know what I mean,” he retorts, hand snaking down her hip to pinch at her ass beneath the silk chiffon.

The way she promptly bites at her lower lip makes him smile, and he sneaks away before she can retaliate.

He slithers in between wine barrels that serve as tables, and inevitably gets sidetracked by Laura’s cousins once he gets past the alley walk flowered with mauves and deep reds.

One of them complains about the dusty dirt and Clint bites back the need to remind them that Laura and he have already addressed the need to bring an extra pair of shoes on the announcements. The other girl is way too familiar for his taste, running her hand up the blue silk of his suit.

Ignoring the impulse to knead his nose, he stares ahead. A small group catches his attention, clustered in between two flower arches. They talk so animatedly he's sure it's a miracle that their drinks haven't sloshed all over the place.

He gives a quick glance to Laura but she’s now far enough away (and cornered herself) that there isn’t much she can do.

That’s when a broad hand falls on Clint’s shoulder in a resounding slap, followed by a deep, throaty chuckle. A prickling sense of dread and anticipation tickles his neck then.

For the life of him, he can’t figure out why his heart slams against his ribs. Why he shudders at the other man’s touch - why it feels like the garden is closing in on him suddenly.

The wet sensation on his shoulder snaps him out of it.

“ _What the hell_?”, he grunts, pulling away to look at the damp patch staining his vest.

“Oh my God”, shrieks one of the girls, tugging on the other’s arm and staring at Clint with a crinkled nose.

“Relax, it’s just water”, a warm and deep voice says.

Clint angrily removes the article, sneaking another glance at the damage before finally taking a look at the culprit.

And when he does, his heart stops.

* * *

They say meeting your soulmate is a moment of peace. A blessing from Heavens above, written in the stars before you were born. That you will feel an abundance of relief and joy, and your world will suddenly brim with beauty.

Clint is not feeling any of this. In fact, he sees red.

Fuck those stars and their horrendous sense of timing.

He’d given up finding his soulmate long ago. Never dreamed of one in the first place with how codependent soulbonds sound.

And he loves Laura. He belongs to her now. _She’s the love of his life._

The instant connection that seeps deep into the marrow of his bones is not welcome. The angry pulsing of his birthmark makes him grit his teeth with the effort of keeping still, instead of rushing to touch the other man like his treacherous instinct calls.

Clint doesn’t need to look to know his mark is gleaming gold now.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He swallows hard to make up for his dry throat, heaving chest betraying his ragged breathing even though he keeps his mouth shut. Even in the direst missions during war, his body didn’t act up like this. Didn't betray him like this.

This is a nightmare.

* * *

Clint doesn’t ask. He goes back into military mode the minute he realizes how bad the situation is because that’s how he handles problems best. He commands Thor Odinson to follow him to the Pavilion overlooking the vineyard for a quick chat. The place is tucked away in between tall oaks, and is the perfect spot to find a little privacy.

To the others, it might seem like the groom is firm about lecturing a guest on appropriate behavior. But they both know the truth.

Clint shuts the double doors of the ballroom after him, closing them on the photographer’s call to come take a few portrait shots near the vines.

“We’ll never talk about this. Not ever again. You hear me ? I don’t give a shit about that soulmate stuff. I’m happy as I am. _I’m straight_. I’m in love with Laura and I want to spend the next seventy years with her.”

“Clint-”

“ _You need to leave_."

The command sounds harsh, even for him, and it would probably sound outrageous to any other guest, but Clint knows he will never have the power to fight this if the other man stays.

He’s not strong enough for this. This ancient magic that has walked this earth for centuries and which is now stirring his loins and heart. A kind of yearning he’s never felt for Laura before.

Even now, as he tries to save the first day of his marriage, his voice is still pathetically needy. The burn in his tattooed palm spreads to his fingertips. Clint shuts his eyes, fighting back tears. He still sees the lightning bolt inked on his skin so clearly.

He clears his throat to even his voice. Tries to speak up again when Thor doesn’t offer resistance.

“Please, leave”, he rasps. “And don’t tell Laura. You can’t.”

“I wasn’t planning to say anything to her,” Thor says, sounding equally regretful.

For some reason, the admission doesn’t relieve the tension tightening Clint’s shoulders. Instead, it makes him more febrile. Achieves to tangle the knot of yarns in his throat.

“Okay,” he says slowly, and his treacherous gaze lands on Thor’s neck. Peeks at the sharp end of a bow inching above the collar of his shirt.

Thor notices, of course. His hand raises to rub the patch of skin there. A small gesture that takes Clint’s breath away.

“But I’m not planning to leave either.”

Clint furrows his brows immediately. “ _What the hell do you mean_ ?”

“Laura needs me today. She’s my precious friend and I can’t let her down. I’ll stay.”

“No. No no no no. **NO**.”

In spite of himself, Clint takes big strides to stand in front of Thor, the soul bond proceeding without any regard for his conscience. His hands find the other man’s collar in a harsh grip which could throttle him effectively if it weren’t for their trembling, or how much stronger Thor clearly is in comparison to his.

The move also pushes Thor to lean in and meet Clint’s heated gaze. He’s pretty sure one of the man’s golden strands brush across his face with how close he is.

“I’ll stay”, Thor repeats, a husky undertone to his voice, “What would these rich people say if I were to leave the wedding early anyway ?”

Clint’s lower lip quivers with anger. He abruptly releases Thor then digs into his own sandy hair nervously.

He has a point. Thor leaving so soon after showing up will no doubt cause a commotion. And Laura would be sad, incredibly so.

Clint sucks in a sharp breath, resting his fists on his narrow hips.

“Whatever, I can’t let you ruin my life. This thing is insane. We should bury it _right now._ ”

Thor chuckles darkly then.

“Don’t try to put all the responsibility on me. I’m not ruining your life. Unless you’re equally ruining mine.”

“What are you saying ?”

Thor smooths down his tie before sparing a disappointed look.

“I’m sorry you must have missed the basics of soulbonding in class, _älskling._ But you can’t just ask me to haul my ass out of your life like that. It would be a stupid decision for both of us.”

“And why ?”

“You would die”, Thor grits out, though his voice sounds just this side of wrecked, as if the idea of Clint dying is unbearable to him.

Clint blinks in confusion at the words.

“I know you Northern countries are more dramatic about soulmates than we are, but-”

“Let me rephrase that for your American sensibilities then: _you cannot break a soulbond_. The few times people have tried ended in disaster for everyone involved. You’ll become a rose dying on a vine if we don’t entertain this connection, Clint. Do you understand ?”

Clint swats the other man’s hand as it reaches for his shoulder.

“Don’t fucking patronize me, you asshole”, he grits, pulling away until his back rests against the wall.

He shuts his eyes at the implications beneath Thor’s statement, feeling an enormous weight settle on his shoulders. His throat tightens once again. There’s not enough air in the room. He slowly lets himself sink to the ground, helpless. Wraps his arms around himself, throws his head back against the wall with a loud clang that makes Thor wince.

As Clint thinks of Laura, the other man crouches by his side.

Clint resents him for the way his heartbeat races, louder and faster still than before. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys. Leave a comment if you enjoyed or hit me up to chit chat on Tumblr.  
> I'm also scotchandwhitelies there.


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